


Hunger Makes a Human

by Sabba



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabba/pseuds/Sabba
Summary: Leon Kennedy has a lot on his plate.As a young-adult omega he should be able to understand and control his natural instincts. That is, if he hadn't been taking suppressants since he presented at the young age of 11 years old.Now that he's in an actual zombie apocalypse and his suppressants are out of reach, how is he going to cope with these new senses bombarding him, begging him to submit to the very monsters trying to devour him?Leon has to keep telling his body that a massive, behemoth Alpha who's out to crush your skull is NOT hot.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Mr. X | Tyrant T-00
Comments: 123
Kudos: 612





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I have no idea what i'm doing! B^)

Omegas are not allowed to join the force. 

It seemed tactless to prohibit a gender from a career of helping others. If anyone wanted to help old ladies cross the street or chase down a purse snatching fiend, they would do as they damn well pleased. But in the grand scheme of things, the reasons weren't entirely unjustified. 

Omegas were argued to be distracting but no less capable than their counterparts. The decision to ban omegas from the police force was a lazy attempt to limit omegan violence. Which worked just as well as placing a band-aid on a ruptured artery. The laws and regulations pleased the general public and thus doomed all wannabe omegan cops.

All except for one Leon Kennedy. 

Turns out sneaking your mother's prescribed suppressants twice a day made you as scentless as a fawn.

By working harder than others and striving to succeed, Leon was omitted into and graduated through the police academy (him being the first of his family to study past a high school diploma). The young blonde exceeded all expectations his parents had for him. His soft omega mom would shake her head as his father scolded him, saying that even a cross-eyed beta could see he's an omega playing pretend. And so on his last day at home he was pleasantly surprised when his father gave him a sturdy hug and his mom handed him an unlabeled bottle of very familiar blue pills. 

He was not an omega. Leon Kennedy was a police officer. 

\-------

Late into the night, barely before Leon was to start his life in Raccoon City, he received a phone call while preparing for bed. He lowered his freshly coated toothbrush back onto the motel’s porcelain sink. Before he could utter a word, a solemn voice quaked on the other line, shaking almost comically. 

“H-hello!?” Leon winced at the grown man’s voice cracking.

“You’re working at the Police Station soon? I-I work there. I was told to call you and tell you- OH GOD- ”

Noise and clutter filled the speaker- loud enough for Leon to utter ‘Jesus Christ’ and hold the phone an arm-length away. He only put the phone back to his ear as the commotion died down.

The voice panted quietly. 

“Stay away from Raccoon City.” Click. 

Leon stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, his worries reflecting back at him. Stay away? But he was hired there to help, to become a member of what he considered to be a righteous community of like-minded individuals. If there was a problem who better to solve it than the actual police? The blonde called the number back, hearing it ring almost infinitely before a robotic voice apologized for their full voicemail. The situation was surreal, too surreal. Maybe it was a dream? A side-effect of taking way too many scent-blockers? 

All Leon knew; he wouldn’t have enough toothpaste to wash away the bitter taste of dread that rested heavy in the back of his throat. 

There’s no way the enigmatic phone call was gonna succeed in its endeavor to scare Leon. No sir.

Leon was going to Raccoon City, police gig or not. He got this far and he was not turning back, regardless of the potential dangers that lay ahead. Popping the small bitter pill between his lips, the rookie went to bed with motivation to fight yet another obstacle keeping him from his dreams. 

\------

The rain crackled violently against the glass of Leon’s jeep. The steady pace of the windshield wipers soothed him into a trance as he sped past the bright green welcome sign that pointed into the forbearing city. With little to go on and a tank full of gas, Leon made the lengthy trip to south-state Wyoming. 

Occasionally the blonde would clamp his clammy palms onto his jeans, the nervous sweat building as he contemplated the potential problems that an entire city was failing to cope with. His first immediate irrational thought; they found out. I’m an omega and i’m going to be fired and thrown in jail. And somehow, the universe magically created a scenario that Leon deemed just as nerve wracking, if not more. The drive itself was irking him, eating him alive. 

The low-light of a gas station came into view. The per gallon rates increased dramatically as he crossed into the small, western county but he had little choice in the matter. Sliding his jeep into the outer edge of the pump, he glanced around as the machine took and read his card information. 

Stillness enveloped the air eerily. A lone cop car sat at the front of the gas station windows, the inner lights hazily gleaming. Not the most unusual thing. Only a dumbass would steal a cop car and every officer knew it, leaving the consequences open for the taking. He stepped to the glass doors of the building. 

One main side-effect of the suppressants was the newfound inability to scent other’s pheromones. If he had sensed the pain and fear that was resonating from the two Alpha officers, Leon would have been better prepared for what he was about to see. 

Blood and guts and a panicked officer in the back.

Creeping past the wounded officer who held his neck, Leon got a front row seat to full on human cannibalism. The rotted body dove his teeth into the officer savagely, mocking an Alpha’s bite to the sensitive and private glands on the neck. Leon could only gape at the gruesome scene, the Alpha officer howling bitterly as his cries turned to wet garbled nonsense.

The blonde cried out. “What the fuck!?”

Leon couldn’t feel his hands as his gun went off. Disgusting, wet howls from the pre-deceased squelching into low growls as the rookie’s offending bullets reorganized its anatomy. Just as the bile built at the bottom of his throat; the vile body finally hit the ground, seemingly dead. A terrifying blessing. He hastily scrambled with the doors of the back room and fled to the storefront, nearly tripping over his own feet as horrible monsters from his nightmares lurked in every dark corner. Thankfully another living human, a young girl, resided in the parking lot with the rest of the creatures, helping Leon find the inner will to save her life and overcome the situation. 

“Over here! Get into the cruiser!”

Roped up into the abandoned police vehicle, the two lone survivors speed off towards Raccoon city. Neither suffered any wounds, thankfully, as they acquainted each other rather awkwardly after such an intense experience. The girl, whose name was Claire, thanked him earnestly and the blonde decided they would get through this together. They traveled further and further away from the gas station, leaving Leon’s jeep and his suppressants behind.


	2. Prioritize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon learns how to play zombie survival real fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure how long this fic is going to be but im gonna finish it or you have the right to kill me

The inside of the Raccoon city Police Department was truly a magnificent sight. Under different circumstances Leon would take the time to appraise and study the architectural genius behind its construction. It's rustic arches radiated old knowledge; gold and brass and pale in all the right ways. The splashes of blood and messy clutter couldn't completely take away the specularity and charm of the marble. Leon had to crane his neck to stare at the goddesses room, also known as the front lobby. He was glad that zombies didn't find buildings quite as delicious as people. 

Leon lulled his head to the side with a low groan. The semi-truck explosion really did a number on him, he could feel a bruise forming at the lower part of his back. He panicked briefly, sticking his fingers in his ears to check for potential fluids. When they came back dry he sighed in relief, his spinal cord didn't seem damaged. But he's definitely needed some medical treatment from some of the burns he sustained. Maybe there'd be a directory he could look at to see if the building even contained a clinic. 

Leon strode up to the front desk stiffly, glancing behind the desk to see if the receptionist did indeed make it out of the building (or from their post at least). With no sign of life or life after life, Leon ransacked the desk. Carefully, the blonde unraveled several sheets, unavoidably bumping boxes and various notebooks with his throbbing elbows. A container of orange tic-tacs noisily rattled as it rolled out of one of those boxes and hit the bottom shelf on its way to meet the floor. Cringing, he waited a second or two before lifting his head over the welcome desk, glancing around nervously. 

…

Ok, good. Nothing remotely interested in some fruity mints. 

Leon snagged the container and popped one in his mouth, continuing his search. He eventually found a map that was deemed readable even with the moderate amount of coffee stains soaking through it. He hummed, scanning the crumpled up pages only to find that, unfortunately, RPD didn't have a clinic. 

"Goddammnit." Did these guys just lick their wounds?

The burns on the sides of his arms ached as Leon shoved the map into his jacket (which also suffered several holes from the same explosion). Maybe there'd be a first aid kit or like something to help with the pain. Perhaps some ibuprofen… or morphine… 

Or maybe a slap hard enough to wake him from this nightmare. 

Leon groaned and held his stomach. His skin still felt like the fire was brushing up against him, cooking him slowly. He grimly smiled, head resting against the chilly, wooden desk.

He needed to regroup with survivors. He needed to find Claire and the girl’s brother. Even if he was the last standing officer in the entire city, he was still an officer.

Before the blonde could think of more half-assed motivational things, a loud jarring rattle and panicked shouting sounded from the metal barricade by the front doors. 

“Stay back, you sons-of-bitches!” BANG BANG BANG!

Gunshots sounded, resonating from the shallow opening under the gate. Leon jolted to his feet. A survivor! The blonde staggered over to the noise, “Hello! I can hear you. Where are you?”. He placed his hands on the dirty metal. The bottom of the door looked like a weeping wound. Blood caked the floor in dramatic arches, leaving no imagination for the fate of those on the other side. 

The voice replied, rough and clipped. “You there, pull the lever on the outside. Hurry!” Sounds of a struggle followed. A chilling howl turned into wet gurgling as a gun was fired. Leon frantically slid his hands to the wall, tracing the wiring along the edges of the gate to a lit power supply. With little resistance, Leon pulled the lever; brandishing his gun, he wouldn’t let another man get killed right in front of him without a fight. To his horror, the gate only slid up about half way. 

“It’s stuck! You’re going to have to crawl under!”

Immediately, a tall dark man slid the upper half of his body under the slit. He cursed and kicked back at a pair of bleeding hands. 

“Kid, give me a hand!”

Leon scrambled and grabbed the apparent officer by the collar of his shirt, assisting in dragging him away from the door. The officer, a lieutenant from the looks of the rank he was wearing on his sleeve, was covered in crude bites all down his exposed arms. A hole caving in his side near his ribs gave Leon much doubt that this someone was going to survive. There was nothing that he himself could do for the fellow. He instead focused on closing the broken gate before the clumsy zombies behind it wiggled through the opening like bastardized maggots. The lieutenant wheezed on the ground, thanking Leon in between heavy breaths. 

The blonde helped the man up a couple of stairs to let him rest on the leather couches before the goddess statue, his wounds leaking into Leon's tattered jacket. Without anyway to treat the poor man, Leon could only offer sympathy. 

"Things are looking a little worse for wear here, huh?" The rookie inwardly cringed and let out an awkward little laugh. _Wow, Leon. Very smooth. This man is dying_. The panting, wounded officer simply lifted a hand, signalling there was no need for small talk or comfort. 

“Save your breath, stranger.” 

“I’m sorry. What I meant was, we need to get you to a hospital. Those wounds look serious-”

“No.” A stern command silenced Leon. “I don’t need you to worry about me.” He paused. A soft wheezing still audible in his lungs’ quest for air. 

“What’s your name, son? You’d better have a good reason for being in this hellhole with these creatures lurking about.”

“Leon. Leon Kennedy.” 

The crease in the Lieutenant’s brow smoothed over. “Kennedy? I thought I told that bastard Scott to warn you about this place. Goddamn insubordination, even at times like these.” 

Leon shook his head, taking a knee onto the crusty and littered floor to rest his tired and shaking legs. The flush he developed from earlier still refused to die down. “I did get a call. That’s why I came to help, sir.”

The man scoffs, shaking his head with grit teeth. “Don’t call me ‘sir’. The name’s Lieutenant Marvin Branagh. Now stand up, Rookies don’t get to relax on their first day on the job.” 

Leon gaped and scrambled with his footing, a soft and crooked grin splitting his face at Marvin’s lame attempt at making light of the situation. Lieutenant Branagh may have looked terrible, but he was proving to be more stubborn than a mule. The rookie has no choice but to have full respect for such a soldier of this feral battleground. Leon offered a mock salute. 

“Officer Kennedy. Reporting for duty.”

Marvin huffed, amused by the blonde’s good spirits. 

“Your first and final task, officer-”

The dark, weary man held out a small notebook. Its edged tarnished in old and new blood. “Get yourself out of Racoon City. Survive, Leon. This book has a lot of stuff in it, courtesy of a good man named Elliot. There should be something about everything in there, regarding this place I believe.”

Leon carefully took the book. He wanted to argue and root for Marvin to ‘stay in there!’ and make it out with him by his side but… 

This book and command was a man’s dying wish. 

“Sir, I-” _Don’t cry, Leon. You fucking bastard, don’t cry._

“-I understand.”

Marvin liked his answer, nodding in agreement. “Now go. Get out of here before I try to eat your flesh. You think you’ve seen some shit out there but there’s nothing more vicious than being trapped in a room with a turned Alpha.” 

Leon froze at the implication. “What… What do you mean?”

“When a beta turns they go all zombie on us.” The dark man now rested with his head back and his eyes closed, oblivious to Leon’s panicked expression. “-but when an alpha turns, hell, they turn into more of a monster. Lose their skin and grow claws and fangs. Never seen anything like it.” 

Unsure what to do with this new, horrifying information, the rookie asked his next question cautiously. 

“What happens to omegas when they turn?”

“Dunno, haven’t seen an omega since this shit started happening.”

\------

Up the stairs to the second floor, Leon dove into the secrets within the book now in his possession. Crude sketches and various notes littered quite a few of the pages. Some of the words were clean and crisp, others impossible to decipher in their sloppy and frantic script. 

One thing was repeated in bright red ink at the top of almost every page: Don’t get bit. 

Officer Elliot stressed just as much in his following notes.

_The bite is what does it. At first, we thought it was infection from the wounds but even a grade school nurse could tell that it wasn’t just your everyday symptoms. After the bite, the slime comes. Just heaps of the disgusting shit pours out of the afflicted’s mouth and nose. Prolly the body tryin to fight it off. Next thing ya know they’re dead on their feet. Literally._

__

__

Don’t get bit. If you do...

 _God help you._

Leon gulped.

Just a single bite. One fuck up at was all over for him. He needed to get out of here and warn someone about this outbreak. To have this case get too out of hand was unthinkable. God, he hoped Claire was fine. 

Something taped to the inside of the book tore free from Leon’s investigating. A green object cluttered to the ground, shining brilliantly against the dirt ridden floor. He shakily bent over to pick it up. A brilliantly shaped key is what fell from the book. It’s emerald spade shape shined a green hue over the unmarred brass of its teeth. Leon wiped drips of sweat off his face with his shirt sleeve. 

He’s been sweating an awful lot. With the excitement dying down he should have cooled down a little bit. Leon’s vision swam, making him feel woozy and sick. 

When was the last time he ate or slept? He had neither since driving in to the damned city. Stuffing the notebook into the pocket of his jacket, he held onto the railing. He did have spare snacks in his suitcase… in his jeep… at the gas station. Shit. He left all his stuff behind. Not to mention his spare pistol and a change of clothes. And…

Leon paled. A breath caught in his throat.

… and his suppressants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fedora bastard will arrive soon
> 
> Lemme know what you think of the new chapter, im not much of a writer but im having fun!


	3. Person of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr.X has little to worry about... until Leon gives him something to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

Death and life both coexisted in the halls of the Raccoon Police Department. That is, until T-00 completed his mission. 

The titan didn’t know how many witnesses of the T-virus outbreak remained, only that there were survivors he was required to eliminate. He would receive different commands broadcasted directly to his thoughts from the umbrella machinery lodged into the side of his skull. Still ringing clear as day, the signal reoriented his focus. 

_Destroy the witnesses and remaining police officers on the property of the Raccoon Police Department._

In addition to retrieving the G-virus sample, that is.

But first, exterminating various distractions seemed beneficial. Locating the minuscule pendant in the possession of such a small creature would be downright inefficient, regardless of the sharp senses in his arsenal. 

Despite being able to discern human speech, the tyrant would ask no questions through his com. He would complete both tasks without failure. There was no mercy or remorse in T-00’s black heart as he caved the crying, pathetic faces of his prey. He was made to do this: designed to be stronger, faster, and impervious. He was everything greater than his human counterpart, becoming a powerful yet untraditional assassin. 

His current target, visibly lugging around it’s own weight, was none other than the RPD chief of police, Brian Irons. Irons’ use to Umbrella had expired, leaving the human little more than an officer meant to be eliminated. Following the man through the halls was an easy task, anyone with a nose could tell which direction the panicked individual went. The coward wheezed and cursed as he knocked over chairs and side tables in a pitiful display of desperation. The wood becoming victims beneath the behemoth’s heavy steps. Cedar furniture cracked and caved alluringly, not unlike how T-00 expected Chief Iron’s very bones to feel. The blood lust of a potential kill spurred the B.O.W into an eager march, shaking the frame of the room if not the entire building. They both turned a corner, one flying by and then the tyrant ghosting him not five seconds later.

“FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Irons scrambled with the knob of the door at the end of the hall. Sweat coated the human's hands.

By T-00’s mental map of the rooms beyond, the police chief was headed for the lounge and then, inevitably, the Library. The tyrant growled in frustration. Despite all the power and superiority he had, his lumbering form wasn’t designed to chase individuals through tight corridors, and the Library was definitely too small for a beast of his stature. By the time he stormed up to the lounge, Irons could be heard quarreling with the zombies in the Library. Both of the doors behind them shutting simultaneously. Huh, maybe there was some finesse left in the doomed man.

_But no doubt, he will make a mistake. They always do._

T-00 clenched his fists, feeling the irritation bubble beneath his stoic, unyielding skin. He wished the fool would soon.

Before the tyrant could take a newly motivated step to return his pursuit, a soft voice called over the railing of the lounge from the reception below.

“Hello? Is everything alright up there?”

All thoughts T-00 had before flat-lined. _What was- Who was speaking?_ Peculiar enough that sounds of a struggle didn’t deter the one asking but instead made them seek out the commotion. As if an infected would bother with a civil response; the survivor’s arrogance continued to fuel the tyrant’s rage.

T-00 did, however, feel a lick of curiosity spike within the fiery blaze of his temper and he purposefully strolled over to the edge of the railing. Clicks and rattles from his straps and clamps sounded as he peered over the side; albeit, jarring them a little more harshly than with his usual gait. What greeted him was actually strange to the B.O.W, for once he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. An officer, as they were obviously dressed, peered up at him. It seemed impossibly out of place in the midst of the infection. A lone human man stood shakily in the open room. His police uniform shining a brilliant blue, untouched by the filth that filled every nook and cranny the property had to offer. He gazed up at T-00 with his wide, blue eyes. 

“Ah! I knew I heard a voice!” 

Ah.

Very odd. 

A human was addressing him. 

The tyrant remained still, observing the untarnished creature. T-00 wasn’t aware if he himself possessed speaking capabilities; he only ever needed to nod his head in agreement whenever Umbrella gave him commands. But it wasn’t like he was much for small talk. He'd never tried to speak before.

“Are you hurt? Do you need me to come up there? I have some supplies!” The young male gestured to the pouch on his side. “My name is Leon. Were you employed here before all this?” He spoke adamantly, hands waving to and fro. 

This one was definitely a new addition. From the clean clothes to the naive demeanor, this human was much like a fat house cat strolling into a wolves den. A painfully easy kill. 

Out in the main hall, a door burst open. The clattering echoed loudly, causing the human- Leon- to jump. That was likely to be Irons emerging from the Library. With any luck the dull man wouldn't notice the lack of his pursuer and run right down into the reception where T-00 could jump down and bludgeon both humans in one go. 

“Christ, more action out in the hall? Wait right there.” Leon put his hand up to motion to the tyrant to stay put. The blonde walking on shaking legs back to the mouth of the reception’s entrance. 

T-00 would not wait. The tyrant stepped up over the edge of the lounge-reception buffer and plummeted down where Leon stood not long before. The flooring below his heavy body caved, splintering the marble in grotesque, long cracks to all ends of the room. The surprise and terror playing out on the blonde’s turned face was priceless; realizing a little too late that he was confiding in a monster. With the floor absorbing most of the fall, T-00 was up and bounding towards Leon with frightening speed. Leon squawked, awkwardly attempting to turn and dash away-

\- Which ended up with the shaking human catching his own ankle and tumbling to the ground.

T-00 didn’t allow himself to feel disappointed, if anything he could easily kill this downed human and Chief Irons quickly and efficiently. 

And the tyrant was _infinitely_ efficient.

Leon had tumbled quite a bit out into the main hall, allowing a shocked Chief Irons to gawk at the fool of a subordinate down the shorter group of stairs. Excellent, he could catch both officers in this room. T-00 doubted Irons could run back up the flight of stairs behind him due to the fatigue the overweight man showed. A pleased purr rumbled through the tyrant as he stood above Leon, a pair of targets to cross off his list.

But then, T-00 sensed something… peculiar. 

A fresh, new smell feathered under his nose. It was weak and wouldn't have been picked up by any regular human, but the tyrant could make it out among the stink of all dead and dying. He was bewildered by the richness of the scent, which grew in intensity the closer the behemoth marched towards the fallen officer. It smelled like- like…. things the tyrant couldn’t even hope to describe with his limited vocabulary. 

But it was very pleasant and invigorating. Almost like seeing a color for the first time, announcing itself brilliantly against all others.

It pulled T-00 in, making his brain foggy; For once, he ignored the commands and the blood lust. He just wanted more of the intoxicating smell. Leon cried out and shielded his face as the massive beast lunged down onto the blonde, clutching his vest in two vice grips. The source of the smell resided at the base of Leon’s bare neck, and T-00 had no problem with burying his nose there to deeply inhale the fleeting and fevered scent. The tyrant drank it in, taking any fragrance like a parched man to a glass of delicious and cool water. 

“Oh god…” The soft, frightened voice of the human below him ghosted over his grey ear.

The close proximity combined with the sultry scent lit T-00’s insides ablaze, making him groan and bury himself impossibly deeper into the warmth. He was reacting at an almost embarrassing level; his body betrayed the superior sense of control he had over himself during his entire existence. His body felt restless, even his mouth was watering. Strange, he didn’t require food to function, yet the idea of sinking his teeth into the pink and alluring flesh _enticed him endlessly._

Just a bite. A single bite right on the neck. The human’s cries mellowed into soft whimpering. Both of Leon's hands were on the base of T-00’s neck, pushing back in a weak attempt which must have been the extent of the human’s physical strength.

Maybe it would make sense to a more human version of himself long ago, but the fragrance drugged him, making him unable to comprehend what exactly he was doing. His teeth felt so right dragging down the tantalizing, pale neck below him. Slowly, T-00 added a teasing pressure onto his bite, feeling the skin pull taunt under his dull teeth, ready to sink in and- and then _something_ would happen. Something that- 

BANG!

T-00 let out a surprised breath as his head whipped to the side, tearing him away from the haze and neck. A bullet, he thinks a bullet hit him on the temple, effectively shattering the Umbrella hardware; Its usual hum replaced with utter silence. 

“You! Get the fuck up!” A gruff voice followed by frantic rustling. 

“W-what about this thing-”

“Fuck if I know. Get up and move if you want to live.”

The rest of the conversation flew over the tyrant’s head, and when T-00 looked back to humans they were fleeing up the west side stairs. He watched them until they passed by and disappeared behind the second story door leading to the waiting room. With the scent gone and Umbrella silent through his broken com, T-00 was left with little to no guidance or explanation to the only weakness that he had ever displayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it fanart if it's my own fanfic?? or like??  
> [pic.twitter.com/oYi6nTHzrN](https://t.co/oYi6nTHzrN)


	4. No Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinky Irons is stinky. Human drama ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a day late but you didn't know that ... you 
> 
> dab dab dab dab

Cold. 

The chilling liquid on Leon’s neck was all he could focus on. The blonde let the stranger drag him away from the behemoth zombie and on by the rotting Marvin, who started snarling lowly through the fold of his drooping flesh. Leon had tied the poor dying Lieutenant up after taking Marvin’s supplies (not his idea, of course). But looking at the dead man now, he was thankful that Marvin had him do so. The harsh grip in his abused shirt collar tore the fabric’s seams as they started to ascend up the stairs. 

Leon’s clammy hand hovered over the bite, his other grasping his savior’s elbow for support. Was that spit or blood on his neck? Oh God- was he infected? The monster has approached him with murder in it’s stride, but it latched onto him, ready to turn Leon into an infected. 

Leon loathed the moment when his own hand touched his skin. What color would his hand come back as? He wiped the cooling wetness off onto his fingers as he was gracelessly throttled through the door leading to the station’s waiting room. The warm orange lighting offered little comfort to the shaken officer. The slower pace allowed Leon to glanced at his shiny finger. 

_Clear._ Yes! The blonde could start crying right then and there. 

"Thank god. If you didn't come along when you did i- i'd-" Leon's eyes met the others, sparking recognition in the place of the blonde's sporadic thoughts.

"Sir!" Leon instinctively straightened, attempting to regain his footing and dignity in the face of his boss. The mustache really put a staple in the man's identity. Chief Irons said nothing. He continued to maneuver them both through the halls, only releasing the rookie to brandish a ring of keys. Several (unassumingly) dead infected were piled around the frame of the doorway. A red key was jammed through the doors handle, giving way to a rather well furnished quarters inside. Irons swiftly led Leon through the room and into an adjacent hallway. The stocky man busted through the cedar-wood door, lugging the rookie in tow. The blonde let out a sharp gasp at the predatory gaze that met his on the other side. 

“Shit!” Leon flinched, expecting the enemy to lunge: He expected it to gnaw on his newly bruised neck, tearing away his life and humanity. Chief Irons didn’t try to hide his annoyance, continuing to tug the taller man. 

“For the love of- It’s stuffed. Move your fucking legs.”

_Huh?_

Leon glanced up at a definitely stuffed, dead tiger. 

“O-oh , uh… Sorry. I’m feeling real- I'm not-” Words flapped uselessly from the rookie’s gums.

“No kidding. Guess they’d really let anyone join the force if the academy gave them a rubber stamp.”

Leon flushed, feeling rather embarrassed and hurt by his superior’s bluntness. He tucked his head down and began to walk behind his boss. It’s not like his social status really mattered anymore. He doubted that there would even be a police force after the flesh-eating monsters had their fill. Hopefully the pandemic wouldn’t spread outside of Raccoon City, even if it had to be blown off the face of the earth with Leon in it. Or maybe it already had and every inhabitant of the cursed city was already spiraling straight into Hell. 

“Chief Irons?”

The older policeman grunted, as they both slid through the sole door at the end of the stuffed tiger’s hallway. 

“Who or what was that? The guy in the fedora. The…” Leon trailed off and looked around the room. 

_This room. Was this room a dead-end?_ Leon only saw walls through the slits in the many, ceiling-high bookshelves. _Why did the Chief take him here?_ Maybe there was a secret exit or a weapon that Leon could have. The comforting weight of his pistol was painfully missing from his hip. It probably fell out during his unlucky meeting with the infected behemoth. 

_Criiiiick!_

Leon gasped. A soft creaking taking him out of his troubling perceptions. He looked down at the new, shiny handcuffs that Irons had clasped around his wrists. The blond slowly looked up, meeting Irons’ eyes over the barrel of a very deadly .45 Magnum. 

“Get in the cell.”

The cold chill returned to Leon’s skin. Not due to spit this time. He felt numb as he slowly walked backwards into the bars of the slightly open cell door, only feeling the bite of the cool metal through his thin shirt. He gawked at Irons, searching for anything other than the detached, professional look that his boss gave him. Leon hoped Irons’ would crack a smile and admit to playing a cruel joke on the poor rookie. Hazing rituals were the talk of nightmares when he was in the academy after all. 

But, Brian Irons did no such thing. 

“I said. GET. IN.” Irons took an aggressive step towards Leon, causing the younger man to stumble into the cell with haste. The metal bars slammed shut with a deafening bang, the blonde only shouting out when his jailer finally let his pistol rest at in his holster. 

“What the fuck are you doing? I’m not one of them! That thing didn’t break skin!” 

Irons was eerily quiet. Leon just wished the man would start explaining something about this god-awful, shit-show of a night. 

Irons slowly stepped to the bars. And then he paused- 

He sniffed. 

He sniffed the air around the opening that Leon frantically passed through, causing the rookie’s insides to sink into stifling panic. And then Irons recoiled, gritting his teeth and giving the blonde an angry snarl. 

_Oh, fuck. Good-bye police gig._

“I knew it. A slut. A fucking rat tryin to sneak into the police force. Well good job, moron. Try spreading your legs to these fucking monsters. Maybe they’ll promote you to their own ranks.” 

A nervous sweat pooled at Leon’s lower back, soaking through his sad, torn shirt. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit!” Irons slammed his hands against the bars, making the rookie backpedal to the opposite wall. The wood offered a pathetic amount of security, but hell, Leon would take it.

“You stink like a whore! Your fucking scent is probably like a beacon to all these fucking-” The Red-faced man turned and shoved a handful of books of onto the floor, breaking a vase in the process before turning back to the shaken rookie. 

“- _failed_ experiments! Goddamn Umbrella! Goddamn-it!”

Leon didn’t cower, but he did remain quiet before the enraged man. He was kinda glad the Police Chief put him behind secure bars before having a violent outrage… even if the madman was still on his fevered tangent. 

“They put me on that fucking THING’S hit-list! I can’t die here! Don’t they know what I did for them?”

Leon didn’t assume he knew what madness Irons was spewing. “The...thing?”

The veins in the Police Chief’s temple visibly jumped. “The tall, leather-clad bastard. You’ve met-” Iron’s mouth flopped shut. His eyes widened. It would have looked comedic to Leon, the white of the man’s eyes shining brilliantly against his tomato-red face. If only the rookie wasn’t so painfully cuffed and defenseless. 

“You’ve met.” Irons almost whispered the sentence. The words coming out more as breaths than actual coherent language. 

“It had you and it didn’t kill you. It didn’t even break your skin…” Irons turned away, hand scratching his chin: Speaking mostly to himself. 

Leon didn’t like the sound of that. As a matter of fact he hadn’t liked the idea of anything this place had to offer in-general. But not knowing quite as many details as Chief Irons was beyond troubling. Not to mention the man knew that Leon was an omega. The suppressants were wearing off at an alarmingly fast rate: Probably due to the sheer amount of stress that Leon has put himself through mentally and physically for the past 24 hours. Originally when being found out as an omega, Leon’s worst fear is that he would be fired and humiliated in front of all his peers, but the gleam in his boss’s crazed eyes when he turned back around from his inner monologue was infinitely more terrifying than anything Leon could have imagined. Irons' lips quirked into a diabolical smirk.

“Well, Rookie. Congratulations. I’ve found the perfect job just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little shorter than the others (by like 200 words) but i'm comfortable with the breaks in the story that new chapters create.


	5. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon suffers and then he suffers some more. 
> 
> -but he does get reunited with a certain someone who wants to take that pain away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi 
> 
> im here 
> 
> i love you all heres that new chapter i promised

Leon’s first promotion.

And, most-likely, his last promotion ever. 

Bait for a meaningless trap. Chum tossed into the sea. Leon panicked under his ex-boss’s horrid smile. He took a hasty sniff, scenting his own natural aroma at the base of his wrist. Irons’s smile grew as beads collected at the edge of the blonde’s brow. 

_God, he did stink._

The scent, albeit delightful in quality, only filled his stomach with heaping amounts of lead. 

“That! It’s- There’s no way this would mean anything to something like that!” 

The older man tutted. “I’ve got quite a good reason to believe-

Irons tapped on his own neck twice. “- it’s not **my** throat it wants.” 

The blonde scoffed, rolling his shoulder to banish any ghosting teeth conjuring over his skin, attempting to disguise it as stretching. He turned his face away, not wanting to feed into the chief's disturbing speculation, causing the greying man to chuckle _oh so_ cleverly. And while he hated to admit it, Irons may have spoken some sense. The beast’s grip, while powerful, did not hurt him. In fact, Iron’s manhandling left more aches and bruises than the cold, gloved hands of the monster. Maybe it was a good thing that he smelled like Dawn dish soap. He could be dead. Or worse, turned. 

Leon rubbed at the skin on his forearms, trying to wipe away the fruit-like scent. He felt gross just knowing that smell came from him and that other people and _things_ could notice. The rustling outside the cell pulled Leon from his unsavory thoughts. Irons scrambled to the back of the room, out of view and then back again. A grimince crossed Leon’s face as he saw what the police chief pulled from his storage. A long, sturdy looking ketch-all pole was held in the mad-man’s grip. 

_Christ._

Irons probably used that on several K-9 units over the years. And now, he was the dog.

Leon gawked. “Is that really necessary?!” 

All Irons replied with was a deadly glare, again proving that the man was equally serious as he was desperate. But the blonde would be _damned_ if he was going to put that makeshift noose over his head willingly. However, it seemed Irons was no longer feeling patient, quickly unlocking the door to the cell. The wire-thin mouth of the ketch flew over Leon's head as the chief swatted away the blonde's cuffed hands. 

“Actually-” Irons started. “It is. I'm not getting anywhere within arms length to the _Tyrant_.”

The tether pulled tight and Leon was led out of the cell, a strangled cry of resistance being the only noise the rookie was able to make through his restrained windpipe. Leon wheezed and regretfully tugged against the pressure, seeing stars almost immediately from isolating his own brain’s blood flow. He was led through the hall they had trekked moments before, following the tug and shifts of the pole-arm. If he passed out here who knows where the blonde would wake up next, if at all. 

The larger hall was thankfully still void of anything lumbering around- as far as Leon could tell. He hoped to God that a zombie wouldn’t grab him- cause him to tumble over and cause more unnecessary damage to his battered neck. The rookie turned to look at the police chief over his shoulder, only to stop midway when the hammer of a gun cocked somewhere behind his head.

“Keep walking, new kid.”

And that was all that Leon had to hear before he resigned his struggle and focused on breathing and walking exclusively. 

Chief Irons steered them past the lounge and around the corner residing at the end of the hall. They ended up outside on a metal balcony, stairs leading down and into a small courtyard enclosed in chain-linked fencing. The throttling from the ketch didn’t lighten as they descended the stairs awkwardly; leaving Leon red-faced and winded as Irons retrieved a key, unseen to the blonde, and inserted it into the padlock obstructing the door. It creaked open, shrieking loudly as the metal rubbed against itself.

The new area was ominously clear. 

Only the sound of the burning city in the background served as white noise. The pause allowed Leon to notice the cool nip of the September air and how light-headed the contrast between his bubbling insides and the outdoors made him feel. He felt sick. But, unfortunately, Irons gave him little time to recover. 

“Move up ahead and to the right. Don’t stop.”

All Leon could do is rasp and march forth, afraid of recuperation from his chaotic captor. It became increasingly hard to see the ground where he was standing. Only a small circle of vision was left in the center of his eyes, the rest flickering into and from darkness. He barely managed to clear the first couple steps, stumbling and falling down the second ones.  
He huffed out a cry, choking for a few seconds before Irons gave him some slack to breathe.

“God damnit, Rookie! Move your ass, I don’t have time for this!” A stern shove had Leon back up and over the stairs clumsily. 

_Well excuse him for not being able to fucking see._ He’s let the asshole have it if he wasn’t on the verge of passing out. _This shit really wasn’t meant to be used on people._

Makeshift graves littered the grassy opening and a tall gate at the end of the fence stood tall, blocked off by several boxes and crates. Irons made a hasty dash over to them, cursing and (thankfully) dropping the Ketch. 

“Who the fuck?!” The chubby man ran his hands over the barricades, seeking the ruble for openings. 

Leon took this moment of freedom to crouch down, resting his elbow on his knees. The world was starting to swim and even if Irons wasn’t holding the leash, the rookie couldn’t do much more than sit there. He wheezed shallowly, bringing his fingers up to the raw skin of his neck. 

_Maybe he could sit down for a minute… and just- just catch his breath._ Without the consent of his body, Leon slumped down into the grass. The cool blades were downright comfy and compared to the nasty ensemble of recent events, he could lay there forever. 

Luckily, Leon didn’t pass out, but the echo of shoes on brick pulled him from his haze. Behind him a gun clicked and a female voice rang out into the clearing. 

“Leon!”

The blonde’s eyes shot open. _Claire!?_ He turned his head, smearing rain and dew on his face. There in the opening that he and his captor walked through, stood Claire Redfield. Her eyes darted to Leon’s, widening when she saw the condition the rookie cop was in. She clenched her jaw aiming her pistol at the frantic police chief near the gate. 

“Who did this? Did you do this?!” She yelled, approaching Leon’s side.

Irons, who had made quick work of the crates and debris, snapped his gun at Claire. The low lighting glistening off the crease of his wet brow. He growled at her. 

“Stay out of this. This is my one chance to get out of this shithole and I ain’t givin that up!” 

Leon tuned out the shouting, feeling his blood run cold. He was glad that Claire was safe but- Irons was unhinged, eager to kill and run. He weakly lifted his head, a moment of rest helped him regain some strength. He licked his lips, throat sore and hoarse. He was upset with Chief Irons, but he didn't think he needed to die. What could he say to her or even him to fix this fucked mess? Some of the only actual humans shouldn't be fighting each other. 

“N-no, don't shoot…”

He wasn’t entirely sure anyone heard him. As the words left his lips, the sound of splitting wood cut through the intense atmosphere. The off-center walkway, leading to the front of the Police Station, was cleared in an instant. Large, familiar leather-clad gloves reached through the arches, allowing the imposing figure of the creature from before to squeeze through the stone door. Leon was speechless (and not just because of his crippling soreness), goosebumps littering his skin. The phantom teeth of the massive man, no the Tyrant, still ghosted his neck. Irons let out an alarmed cry, turning his gun on the behemoth immediately and opening fire. By the time the monster stood to his full height, Irons’ gun went dry. 

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Irons threw his gun down, flinging himself into and through the open crack of the door.

The titan shrugged the bullets off like it hadn’t been filled with several .45 rounds and snapped his eyes to the closest living thing in his proximity; Claire. The girl in turn, impressively kept her cool, although the lack of immediate action may have been a horrid miscalculation. 

“What-” She trained her gun at the 8 foot creature. And without a second to spare, the titan charged. 

In three long strides, the beast was upon her. She cried out, roaring courageously as she fired her gun. It snagged her by her red jacket, poised and ready to end her life with one mighty punch. Claire was going to die. 

“HELP!” 

A pitiful and cracked voice, much like a wounded animal, pierced the air. The beast froze mid-punch, tilting his head to assess the noise better. Leon’s hand was out reached towards the two, his breathing heaving. Only when the behemoth turned and looked down on the blonde’s fallen form did Leon realize; that needy cry came from _him._

The pale, grey eyes locked onto Leon’s soft blue ones. The rookie could only blankly stare back, hoping that Claire would be released- and better yet, forgotten. 

“Help me, please…”

And like clockwork, the titan dropped the girl like a sack of potatoes, not even reacting to her pained outcry from the manhandling. It stepped over her, planting its feet firmly before the blonde man- crumpled on the ground. Leon gulped, forcing his teeth to not chatter as the beast towered over him. 

_PleaseleaveClaire.Ohgodpleaseleave._

Leon wanted to look around the thick legs to see if Claire was indeed alright (and preferably retreating) but he restrained himself lest the tyrant follow his line of sight. Instead Leon pawed lamely at the Ketch secured around his neck with his cuffed hands, whimpering a little to add a cherry on top of his “save-claire-from-dying” plan. 

And it worked like a charm. The massive man swooped down to Leon’s level with surprising speed, grabbing the wire between its fingers and pulling it apart like a wet spaghetti noodle. The blonde recoiled, shaking from the sheer amount of lethality that the tyrant portrayed. His neck screamed in relief, causing the tired rookie cop to slump forward towards the grass, except he was met with a strong and supportive hand on his chest, lifting him up and eventually off his feet. 

Unable to struggle with the tyrant, Leon lazied in the beast’s arms, shaking. His head rolling onto a leather clad shoulder. Behind the beast’s back, he caught a glimpse of Claire’s retreating form from where the behemoth came from. He smiled weakly and closed his eyes, the smell of something warm and safe strangely resonated from his beastly hammock and it soothed him into a much needed rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment I dummy dare you <3
> 
> Hit me up on twitter if you wanna chat or think im cute or something  
> @bois_trash


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